Upbeat music at practice is one way to put team into better rhythm

The pads were popping and the sweat flying as strong safety D.J. Swearinger, left, hit free safety Shiloh Keo during a tackling drill Monday, reflecting the more intense feel to this year's training camp.

The pads were popping and the sweat flying as strong safety D.J. Swearinger, left, hit free safety Shiloh Keo during a tackling drill Monday, reflecting the more intense feel to this year's training camp.

Practice begins, and a live band takes to the Bud Light Stage to warm up the crowd before Billy O starts spinning the hits. They don't really call it spinning anymore, and Bill O'Brien, the Texans' new coach, probably never heard of Cool Herc, but Billy O's the hottest DJ in town.

The Texans are just starting to get their first full sweat going, and the band is belting out a stirring rendition of "Long Train Running," a Doobie Brothers jam that asks a good question: Without love, where would you be now?

Not at football practice, that's for sure. And certainly not to see a team that was the worst in the NFL last season and is currently on a 14-game losing streak.

The hot hundreds sporting J.J. Watt, Arian Foster and Brian Cushing jerseys obviously have a passion for the sport and love for their Texans.

For some, this is as close to NFL football as they will ever get. Tickets to regular-season games, not to mention those silly imitations the league calls preseason games, are expensive. The league's bloody Sundays - oh yeah, Billy O has cranked it up, jumping us ahead a decade to some U2 - aren't for the faint of wallet.

Speaking of wallets, the beat picks up with some classic rock as Bob McNair struts around the field with a smile on his face. He seems happy. Energized.

Most of the crowd doesn't seem to notice. They're bumping to the beat, watching the players play.

Aside from fans of the Colts, nobody shows up at football practice to watch the owner own. The other day, Indianapolis owner Jim Irsay handed out $100 bills at training camp.

It would have been cool if McNair had followed suit. He could have brought some of that $1 million the organization saved by granting Andre Johnson a leave of absence for the offseason and made it rain on Texans fans. "Throw it up, throw it up."

Nah. That's like throwing money away.

Billy O's playlist may include T.I.'s "Whatever You like," but that doesn't mean McNair is like those old sugar daddies referred to in the song, though in the last 12 years he did throw more than $100 million at David Carr and Matt Schaub.

How fitting that as McNair exits the field, a cut off Ozzy Osbourne's album "No More Tears" plays in the background. Texans fans can dream, can't they?

Hey, perhaps no more No. 8s, a jersey number conspicuous in its absence this season, means fewer emotional breakdowns.

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This year, the Texans are hoping one of their quarterbacks turns out to be a diamond in the rough or "in the sky," as Rihanna and the teenage girls standing in the media section sang.

The youngsters love it, but Billy O's music has a deeper purpose than the crowd's entertainment. He does little without considering whether it will help his team win football games.

He believes music puts pep in the step of his charges during workouts, and it delivers a noise challenge, an inconvenience, that is present during most games.

"The coaches aren't out there on Sundays … you're out there as a player on your own," O'Brien said. "You crank the music (at practice), and it forces communication among teammates. Then they get to know each other's body language and how they do a signal or how they do this or how they do that."

When it comes to coachspeak, Billy O can drop it like it's hot, but that he is reticent to open up about his thoughts on his team doesn't mean there isn't a lot going on up there.

He is old school and cutting edge. Traditional and innovative. Cocky and humble.

Billy O picks or approves all the music. He sets the tone. He is the DJ, the rapper and the video choreographer. Nothing happens without his say-so.

Bo Porter should be jealous.

Unlike Porter, O'Brien won't fail because he has to wait for the general manager to acquire the right players. He is in charge. (And NFL coaches don't have mini team mutinies over dubious unwritten rules.)

With only minutes left in this morning's workout, the sound of the Police bursts from the large speakers on the sideline: "I'm Sendin' Out an SOS." Fittingly, as if answering said "Message in a Bottle," Case Keenum steps into the huddle to lead the offense down the field.

A quick glance shows that Billy O is on the field standing behind the offense and not in the DJ booth, so the timing of the song is a coincidence. Just part of the Texans' new rhythm.

Returning players have all talked about the tempo and vibe. They bounce to Billy O's beat.

He says the tempo, particularly on offense, isn't anywhere near what he expects. It shouldn't be this early in training camp: day two.

Billy O wants his team's play to match his music: hard and fast. He has everybody bumping - players, fans and media - and it's all fun, because right now there haven't been any games.

As one Texans executive said as he left Sunday's practice: "We're undefeated right now."

Of course, that chorus is repeated every summer when training camp opens.

At least Billy O is giving us a different beat to put it to.

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